


An Ending For The Ending

by cinnamonczerny



Category: Half Life Trilogy - Sally Green
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 22:22:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7379770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamonczerny/pseuds/cinnamonczerny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my interpretation of the ending of the book trilogy by Sally Green. It is about Nathan's son, Edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ending For The Ending

**Author's Note:**

> You asked me to write an ending for the ending; so here you go, Kathleeno Beano! 
> 
> This book was so tragic that it was difficult to pick up the pieces. I tried.

His voice was as clear as the delicate sounds of a traveling stream. Calm and confident, his hands pooled over the map, spilling muted, gentle droplets across the table. They whispered lightly when they hit the wooden floor. His voice still rang out over the sounds, though. 

"You're just like him." He said and, I instantly knew he was talking about my father; either from the thoughtful tone of voice, or the vagueness of his facial expression as he dipped into a memory. The man's emotions echoed through the walls. No one had spoken of my father like this before. The man seemed to miss him, and I felt weird, because no one misses my father. He has always been dangerous and brutal... and alone.

I sat still and listened, awaiting his next comment. Shadows danced beneath his feet. 

"My brother always got his hands dirty, yet I never knew if he liked being the adventurer. Always getting mixed up within it all. I can tell, just by you being here, that you're like him. Adventure. Mystery. That's why you're here." 

I smiled at this. He smiled at me, too, and it made me feel at home. We stayed like this for a few minutes, until he gestured towards the map. 

"So, where is he?" I ask. 

"Ah, let me show you." 

He spoke of darkness and sunsets. Birds and trains, flying and drowning. Until, suddenly I was at the door, saying goodbye. He gave me a hug. 

As I turned around to embark on my travels, I gave one quick wave where I swear I saw flickers of tears, burning in his eyes. His eyes were blurred and ocean-like. The past swirled in them, like blue dye in clear water. I couldn't help but feel that I was the one mixing the two substances together. Was I blending his past with the present? I hope not. The sadness I felt from this was like sand, hiding in my pockets, pulling me down. I started jogging into the woods. It confused me that these two, obviously close, siblings never visited each other. Eh, families. 

I didn't ever turn around. I sprinted into the forest, leaving the man with the sky dripping off his shoulders behind. 

A squirrel bounces from branch to branch, and my animal self immediately responds. I let it. The bird within me is cunning and smart. It is on constant alert, whereas I am not. I've made my mistakes. Rustles spark within the trees. Leaves rattle. The squirrel tries to get away, fails. One of my feathers flutter to the floor as I enjoy my meal. Sitting within said tree, I take the map out of my back pack. It is sketched accurately, spindly scrawls of trees littered across the crinkled piece of paper like spiders legs. He told me specific instructions, saying I had to do exactly as he had said, or I could risk getting caught. I didn't exactly like the idea of telling my mum about this. 

When I decided to finally pay a visit to England, I didn't think of the consequences. Sure, my mum will think I'm mad, and my dad will be wounded. Step-dad, I guess. I won't get lost, I told them. I won't get hurt. I won't lose myself. I won't, I won't, I won't. I just had to get out of there. While sitting in that house, I felt confined and jittery. Mum says it's the half-black part of me, but I replied by saying that she's wrong. Witches are witches, just as good may be bad and bad may be good. She's not the one to judge. 

While being a bird maybe a lot easier, I travel by foot. It's kind of surprising how heavy a backpack can be when flying. An airy breeze drapes over the tangled tree branches, while sunshine warms the rocks peaking out of the earth. I walk in silence, enjoying the whispers of rustling leaves, and fading footsteps of evening walkers. 

Time passes slowly, which it usually does in a forest. Trees are forgotten and plants are left to wander and grow aimlessly. I would watch them if I could. The map singles out certain points on my route, little red dots with assigned times written in fountain pen next to them, although they are hard to read, causing me to think that the man's handwriting is similar to that of a doctors. I try to stick to them, yet get lost often. I'm sorry, okay! 

The days are long. My feet get tired quickly and its when I'm sitting down resting for the 10th time on the 3rd day when a figure starts swirling through the shadows. She emerges like steam from a kettle, her scent, her footsteps disguising as the pat pat of rain, the fiery bursts of red forming into clouds within her eyes. Her body seems to turn into smoke around the area. Of course, I'm in the centre. 

"You're lost." She says, kneeling down in front of me. Sparks seem to flick from her fingers. 

"No I'm not." I retaliate. I stand up, looking around us, despite myself. 

"Aha, you are!"  
She stands, too. 

"Who are you?" 

"I'm the little old witch who is about to make your life a lot better." 

A second after she words this, the sentence seems to hang in the air, in front of me. Each word wobbles a little, fades in and out, and a clap sends them all splashing to the floor. 

"Oops." She says, as if she caused the words to hang in the air like clouds. It was funny, they seemed to be in the arial font. 

Her clothes become loose. The fabric softens, melts even. Red fabric lava slides beneath us. 

"Okay, okay, okay. I'm lost." 

Bewilderment hits me like static, arching and curving, monstrous and weaving through my mind. She smiles, watching the redness rage against the trees. Waves of it clash into the trees, which suddenly align into a wall. They stretch towards the sky and immediately the magma is reaching into the sky. The trees block the world around us. The sky is the only opening. Who knew fabric could stretch this far? 

Nothing dribbles or drips, the woman stares at it all, amazed. Happy. 

The literal Red Sea crawls upwards. When it finally touches the sky, it all falls. Crashes, leaving the sky suspended and us, far, far down. I drop with it. I'm positive the world is ending. I'll drown. The box caves in, all the red, all the me, and the woman mixing into it. I fall and I fall and I fall. There's a splash. 

I'm in a lake. A blue lake. Looking down, it doesn't seem to end. My vision spans round, a panorama. A tree sits upon a hill. I swim towards it. 

The woman is gone. So is the red. And, apparently, the entire location. 

I'm shaking. I march towards the tree, it's leaves motioning me towards them. It's like the wind is dragging me there. I'm cold and wet and tired. A feeling of uncertainty drifts into my mind. If this is what it takes to find someone, it's no wonder I haven't tried before. I don't even know where I am, never mind my father. I'm lost. I'm sorry, mum.  
And it's only when I'm sitting cross-legged on the floor underneath the tree that I start crying. You can never predict tears, they hit you like hail. Pouring rain knocking you out with each droplet. It always comes back to this. I hate it immensely. 

"Um."

I almost don't hear the crackly sound of rustling leaves, at least I think it was leaves. 

"Are you okay over there?" 

I look up, and a man stares back at me. I look up, and I swear he's floating. The sun melts behind him like chocolate, and a large silhouette of a grave stone reaches out towards me. The flat, vertical rock has prickly blades of grass tickling against it, swiftly waving at me in the evening breeze. The guy waves too. He looks French, with pale skin and long hair. I give him a confused look. 

"Ah yeah, you don't know me," He says, gesturing his hands in the air, in defeat, "Come sit down, the graves just about big enough for the two of us. Cosy." 

"Isn't that highly disrespectful" I reply hoarsely, standing up and wiping my eyes on my sleeve. 

"He won't mind," he indicates towards the stone," in fact, I don't think he'd believe me if I told him about this." 

He pats the spot of grave next to him. I sit. 

The tree ruffles behind us, branches casting long, willowy shadows across our backs. They sway next to our own shadows across the grassy floor. Wait, does he even have a shadow?

"Are you alone?" I ask, while simultaneously looking around us. 

"Are you?"

This is suspicious. He's sitting on a grave. I'm sitting on a grave. Who's grave even is this? 

"Tell me your name." I say coldly, "I'm done with the shit people keep not telling me." 

He gives me an amused facial expression. Despite my anger, his smile is contagious. 

"Honestly," I say, "some woman just chucked me here using her clothes!" 

Again, he smiles but doesn't laugh. I stare at my shoes, willing myself to stand up and look at the name engraved on the stone. 

A sunset designed by artists settles next to us, joining in on the conversation. The man gazes at it for a few seconds, until his eyes swiftly fly over to the tree. My bag lies, discarded, underneath it. 

"You're Nathan's son." He says, still looking at the tree. 

This time I smile. 

"You know him?" I ask. 

"Up close and personal." He replies, winking at me. A chuckle escapes him, the sounds flying off with the birds. Until a branch lands next to him. The suddenness of it makes us both go quiet. 

I still stare at my shoes. 

"Can you tell me where he is? I thought he'd be somewhere around here.."  
My voice drifts off. I still can't look at him properly. 

"Do you want the truth?" 

I nod, leaving the silence to rest in peace. 

"I'm not sure where he is." 

He seems struck by this. All of a sudden, he looks so small. His posture is slouched. His hair greasy. I wasn't aware that you could see a person but not see a person. 

He sounds a short sniffle, but then composes himself. He stands up.

"His veins root into the ground. They fuel our breaths, no matter how short they may be. His arms intertwine and curl through the branches, the leaves tickling his nose. He is here, but at the same time he isn't. He is a cloud in the shape of a tree, fading and re-shaping everyday. He's escaped his cage."

"If that's your metaphor for his death, then that was awful," I reply, "that made it sound like he's a tree or something." 

"And also!" I say, "he's not dead! My mum tried that one on me a few times, but I just know."

I walk over to the tree and step onto the few roots that have leaked above ground. My hand rests on the cool trunk. For a moment, I think he walks towards me, until he goes straight past me and lies on the ground below the canopy. 

The sun is almost gone now. It's rays attempt to cling to the sky. The sky is unforgiving, and allows the sun to fall. I watch the tragedy occur. I watch the man watch the tragedy occur. He looks wistfully over the endless hills. 

"Who are you?" I whisper to the vague form of a person on the chilly soil. 

"I'm fading." He replies. 

For some reason the dark feels too dark. The sunset was forced. The sky is screaming. 

"What do you mean? Who are you?"

He doesn't reply. 

"Are you okay?" I shout. 

"No." 

His voice is merely a murmur. The leaves above me rustle despite there being no wind. It's completely dark now. The trees are the clouds and I'm slipping through the sky. 

"Thank you, Gabriel." I hear. It's a gravelly voice, unused. An entire branch crashes down in front of me. It's so loud, I leap backwards, further underneath the branches. 

I turn towards the man. 

A large expanse of grass lies down ahead of me. He's gone. 

"What?" I mumble.

I tread in a circle, hands shaking like earthquakes reaching out in front of me. Sticky darkness clings to my clothes. I am lost. I am lost. I am so, so lost. A crack pierces into the trunk. I swear, it almost cracks the ground in half. Instinctively, I run away from it. I trip on the branch. Again, I fall. 

Scrambling, my feet crumble beneath me, my eyes darting everywhere, hands clutching onto the branch. Lightning pulses like a heartbeat. And in those short bursts of light, I spot two shadows sitting on the branches, looking at me. Their legs dangle, and they have playful smiles. They make me think of ravens. Dark, light, dark, light. They now look at each other. A hand slowly reaches out to touch the others face. Fiery sparks seem to fly off them onto the ground, it melts from their touch. They kiss. They slide off the branch; And envelop into the disintegrating floor. 

Dark. 

I wake to a tree. I wake to a branch. It rests on the grave. Finally, I tip-toe over to it, and read the gravestone:

"Here lies GABRIEL BOUTIN. Even though your body is trapped here, your soul is swimming through the current."

The branch has writing carved into it, too. It's a drawing. A drawing of a tree with a person as the shadow.


End file.
